


The Dark of the Night

by Rebel_Atar



Series: Spiritassassin Week 2017 [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Atar/pseuds/Rebel_Atar
Summary: Chirrut has a nightmare that effects him more than he imagined. Baze helps him through it. Set when they are still young in the temple.





	The Dark of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Spiritassassin week
> 
> Day 3: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> This started out well but I feel like I didn't know what I was doing by the end of it.

Chirrut was running. Dusty Jedha streets rough under his bare feet as they slapped against the ground. There had been shouting. One minute Baze had been right beside him and the next he was so far behind and there was shouting.

 

Chirrut had heard boots scuffing against the ground and the muffled clank and thud of holstered weapons moving against belts and fabric. Then the low hum of a vibro-blade. So had turned and ran. Ran towards to noise. Towards where he thought Baze must be.

 

The streets had become more familiar in the short years since he first came to Jedha but no matter how much he ran Chirrut didn’t feel like he was getting any closer. There was the sickening noise of the blade being buried in flesh and a choked cry of pain. A cry from a voice he knew so well.

 

“Baze!” Chirrut screamed his name as his feet pounded harder against the dirt, desperately running towards his best friend. The distance seemed to vanish and he was panting, kneeling in the dirt as he ran his hands over Baze’s chest. 

 

“Chirrut.” Baze coughed. A horrible wet noise and Chirrut could smell the copper in the air before his hands found the wound across Baze’s stomach. It was wide and deep and so, so wet. Viscous fluid spilling over Chirrut’s fingers as he tried to put pressure on the gash, tried to hold Baze together with too small hands. He could almost taste the blood in his mouth the smell was so strong.

 

“It’s okay Baze. It’s going to be okay, I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.” He was sobbing. Hands shaking where they were pressed down. It wasn’t going to be okay. There was nothing he could do. Chirrut’s chest felt like it was breaking in half, like there was a black hole at the center of it pulling everything inward. 

 

“Ch-Chirrut.” His name barely understandable over the bubbling slur that accompanied it. He felt Baze’s chest still, the blood running through his fingers slowed to sluggish, no longer being forcefully pumped out. Chirrut tilted his head back in a wail and woke up.

 

He was shaking, shivering in the dark. A dream, only a dream. He pushed himself up unsteadily and slid out of bed. The room he shared with Baze wasn’t large, a few short steps took him to the other side where his shins bumped against the mattress and he could hear the soft measured breaths that meant his friend was sleeping peacefully. Chirrut stifled a sob.

He dropped down onto his knees and stretched a hand out to Baze’s chest, feeling the rise and fall for himself. He moved it lower, pushing the blanket out of the way to feel the untorn sleep tunic and undamaged stomach of his friend.

 

Chirrut let out a sigh of relief. He shuffled back until he was wedged into the small space between the edge of Baze’ bed and the table under the window that was between the two beds. 

Close to the head of his friend’s bed the sound of his breathing was louder and Chirrut allowed himself to cry with one hand over his mouth to muffle the noise.

 

He didn’t understand. Why had he dreamed about that. Why was he so shaken up by a dream. One thing was certain he didn’t want to contemplate what life would be like without Baze. He hadn’t realised how much he had come to care for the other boy, even though they were best friends.

 

As Chirrut sat there, trapped in the cycle of his own thoughts, he didn’t notice Baze stirring. Baze came to groggily, surfacing back into consciousness confused by what had woken him in the dark of the night. The sound of muffled sobs filtered into his brain and he woke fully. He pushed himself up on one arm to look around and his eyes fell upon Chirrut curled almost into a ball between the bed and the table, lit only by moonlight, crying into his hands.

 

“Chirrut? What’s wrong?”

 

The other boy startled at the noise, head tilting towards the sound.

 

“B-Baze?” He stammered out, voice thick with tears.

 

It was an awful sound to Baze. It caused a sharp ache deep in his chest that he didn’t know what to make of but knew he didn’t like. He reached out and carefully laid a hand on Chirrut’s shoulder.

 

“It’s okay Chirrut, I’m here.”

 

Chirrut let out a sob and launched himself into his friend’s arms. Baze wrapped him up in them, pulling Chirrut up onto his bed and gathering him close as the other boy babbled about him dying. A nightmare then.

 

“Shhh Chirrut. It was only a dream. I’m here, I’m here.” He tried to sound soothing and hoped he was doing a good job. Seeing Chirrut, who was normally so sure of himself and so fearless, like this was frightening. Baze pulled the blanket up around them and rocked them both gently until Chirrut’s sobs quietened to hiccups and he eventually drifted back off to sleep in Baze’s arms.

 

Baze cuddled him close the whole time but was lulled to sleep by the sound of Chirrut’s breathing, slow and even. Despite this his grip on his friend remained strong til the morning. Keeping Chirrut safe even in his dreams.


End file.
